


It's in the Eyes

by MagiciansAssistant



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But Jerome ain't about that fluff, Established Appearance, F/M, I don't know yet how far this relationship will go, Innocent Jerome for like a second, Internal Conflict, Jerome and Reader, Jerome likes to get handsy, Jerome will be Jerome, Jerome/Reader, LOTS of violence, Murder goes down quite a bit, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Smooching, Some Fluff, Tags Are Hard, plot heavy, wink wink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7356412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagiciansAssistant/pseuds/MagiciansAssistant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With your father being an ex-convict, he taught you all the ins and outs on how to spot and avoid a criminal, but what are you supposed to do when you're drawn to a maniac who saves your life? With a charming smile, charismatic personality, and a  laugh that could induce chills from anyone in the audience, how could you resist? There is nothing more contagious than laughter, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Deserved Death

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, so this is my first fanfic and I'm very excited to share it with you guys. It's certainly not perfect, so let me know what ya'll think! Kudos and comments are always appreciated, thank you!:)

The asperity in her tone is extremely noticeable as she approaches you; yelling louder with each and every step. Her voice echoes through the hospital hallway and amplifies in the same fashion that a megaphone would. Her loud, squeaky, and over sized shoes irk you into biting your nails. The taste of the nail polish flakes settles on your tongue and you rake your teeth against them to bring them to the tip of your tongue. With your pointer finger and thumb, you take the minuscule, cherry specs into your hand and quickly rub the mixture of saliva and nail polish onto your hospital gown once you remember the situation that is playing out. You’re sitting on your chilled and neatly made hospital bed, acting unfazed, and starring straight into the hallway where the woman is yelling at you. You aren’t afraid of her in any way, shape, or form because you know there was nothing she could do to you. There were two GCPD police officers standing by your heart monitor that was beeping steadily. You were hooked up to all sorts of machines that made sure you were alive and well, but in no means did they mean you were comfortable. Between the sticky stickers that stuck to your chest and under your breasts, the prickly stitches that laced up your forehead and forearm, and the lack of pain medication that had been provided, you weren’t exactly comfortable. Although this may be true, you couldn’t complain about the cleanliness of the small private room, the perfect protection that accompanied you, and the ultimate calmness of the room that you’ve called your home for the last two days. You were able to look through a rain beaten window directly at the Gotham city skyline that while was a bit gloomy to those who didn’t live there, it was simply perfect to you. That beautifully calm picture that had been created was burst apart once that vile lady began screaming. That leads back to now, and she is finally at the once quiet room. Profanity isn’t a harsh enough word to describe the words flying from this woman’s lips. She called you every name in the book, words A-Z. Some of the names you had never heard of before and contemplated whether they were even real names or not. Nevertheless, the names were dripping with hatred in every syllable that she uttered. Between her sobs and screams, they were rather hard to make out, but you were fully immersed in the atmosphere that she created. Well, you guess that’s what happens when you kill a woman’s son. The two officers began to escort the women out of your room once she gets too close for comfort. She flails her large arms as the cops grab her and begin dragging her out. She does everything in her power to get to you by kicking, screaming, and even biting, but to no avail. She looks similar to an over sized toddler with a glowing red face that is gleaming with tears as she stomps her feet. You would chuckle if you weren’t now a murderer even if it was self-defense. Remembering your current situation enrages you and you holler at the cops to wait before she was completely gone.

You decided to be very laconic, and simply uttered, “Your son’s death was deserved.”  She lost all sanity then; her eyes seemed to roll back into her head as if she was being possessed and her soul was being ripped from her bones. All humanity flew from her being as she began to flail dramatically like a sardine out of water. This is the first time that you actually felt any remorse for your actions that took place a few days before this. The man you killed, while twisted and disgusting, was still this woman’s son and you just rubbed it in that you took his last breath. You tried to shake this feeling of guilt out of your brain and once again bombard yourself with the reasons why you had to do what you did. You sat there, now your room was silent and you were left all alone with just the sounds of your beeping heart monitor and the overwhelming hums of your thoughts that screamed into your ears that you could no longer drown out. So, there you were, left to recall the murder that you had committed.

You had been walking down a shadowy ally which may sound like a foolish idea for a young nineteen year old to do, but you knew your way around these streets and in order to get home, this was the fastest way. Of course, Gotham streets weren’t exactly known for their safety records and flawless sanitation, but they were the best way for you to get home. Not only that, with your father being an ex-convict due to a robbery, he was able to show you the ins and outs of what’s on the mind of a criminal. That’s the main reason why you felt rather safe while walking down these long, dark alley ways. He taught you how to avoid those sorts of people at all costs, and if someone ever did try to hurt you, you were sure you could take care of yourself and then some. So, almost instantly, you realized you were being followed. With the little light, it was hard to tell what your pursuer looked like, but you were sure that he was tall and a man by the stride that he walked at. To make sure he was indeed following you, you slowed you pace. Soon enough, so did your trailer and he changed his pace again as you quickened yours. Uh oh, you thought, this is exactly what you’ve been anticipating ever since your father warned you. Okay, game time. As your mind began to hatch a plan, you started to realize you were too late. The thudding of his shoes smacking the ground began to become rapid, and you knew that running away would be futile due to the pace that he was running at, but still, you decided to try. Taking a deep breath, you started your run to hopefully get away from whoever wanted you. You could see the street lights at the other end of the ally, but God were they so far away from you. Just as the thought that you weren’t going to make it to the other side in time entered your head, you were proven correct as the man rammed you into the brick wall to your left. The severity of the blow left you disoriented and you soon realized your vision was muddled. He was on you, holding your arms tightly and pushing you against the frigid brick. You shuddered against the coolness of the wall, and tried to shake your head a few times to bring yourself back to complete consciences. Think. You knew that your hands were pinned and this man was strong. Hell, _really_ strong. Your eyes were squeezed shut and the blood rushed behind them due to the severity in that you were closing them. Open your eyes you told yourself, you _have_ to open them now so you can take action. You reason with yourself and you finally decided your actions meant life or…You hesitated before you thought of the word death. Slowly, ever so slowly, you opened your eyes and your bright and hazy vision finally began to focus on the man who held you in his clutches. He was a young man, scruffy, and obviously jonesing for his next fix of whatever his drug of choice was. His eyes were bright red and bloodshot, with drool in the corner of his mouth that stank of alcohol and other foul assortments. You tried to steady your breathing as you looked at him with large, green eyes. He was out of breath from the short sprint he did to get to you and while skinny, he must have been in terrible shape, unlike you, who was as fit as they come. He cleared the mucus from his throat and that’s when he began speaking to you.

            “Listen, I don’t wanna hurt you, but I will if I gotta, sweetie.” His thick city accent was clear as his stale breath hit your fair skinned face. “If you make a move, I can promise you I won’t think twice about making sure you never see the light of day.” At that, he let go of one of your arms and reached into his jean pocket to pull out a decent sized switch blade, much bigger than the size of his palm. In a flash, the blade bound out from inside the knife and glinted in the moonlight that reflected into your eye. At this, you inhaled harshly but refused to break eye contact with this man. He forced the flat side of the blade up near your face and pressed the cold, harsh, and unforgiving metal up against your skin. You have had enough of his teasing, and almost without thinking, you open your mouth.

“What do you want?” you spat, and he pulled the blade away in a quick outward motion. He looked at you, pondering on what he did in fact want with you. You didn’t have a purse with you, and there was nothing of value anywhere in sight. That’s when you started to panic a bit more. A fleeting, primal sense of panic overwhelmed you. This prompted you to ask the question again, but this time much louder. “What do you want with me?” The loudness of your own voice almost made you jump, but the conviction within it was there. He tilted his head, much like a dog does when his master gives a command.

“Well, now that you say it sweetie,” He checks you out up and down and his stare brings forth chills from deep inside you. “Maybe I’ll find out just how _sweet_ …” He brought you in closer now and drew out the word too long for comfort. “You really are.” At that, there wasn’t much more you could stand. You wiggled a bit, and he had you held still rather tight. You began to hatch a plan on how to get away from this piece of filth even if it meant dying in the process because there was no way he was going to violate you.

“Hey, listen, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I’m going to let you know now that I’m not the sorta girl that you should mess with.” You’ve made hundreds of bluffs in the past with friends, family, and even bosses before, and you knew how to do it well. However, this threat you just made wasn’t a bluff. Not in the slightest were you kidding this man. You were willing to kill him if it meant being able to go home.

“Oh really? You a little tough girl then? Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” At that, he laughed at you and moved his switch blade into his less dominant hand in order to hold you tighter. That was your chance. When he wasn’t holding you with both hands, you kneed him straight in the abdomen as hard as physically possible in the position that you were in. He let out a long and painful groan and he didn’t only let go of you, but also the knife in the process. It clanged piercingly onto the cement about six feet away from the both of you after it was done gracefully sliding. You made eye contact with the man and you were both lunging for the knife in an instant. A few steps away from it, you thought for sure you were going to grab it as he was so far behind still clutching onto his stomach, but you were extremely wrong. He tackled you by the knees and you were down like a sack of flour. Skinning your elbows and knees violently didn’t faze you because you didn’t have time to collect yourself; you needed that knife. That was the only phrase that could occupy you mind and you repeated it like a personal mantra. I need that knife, I need that knife, echoed in your mind and that was all you focused on. You began to drag yourself inches closer with him still holding tightly to your legs. He started to reach further up your body to get closer and you threw an elbow landing smack into his nose. By the sound of the crunch, you knew that it was a solid and valuable hit. He let go of you completely now, and you reached for the knife effectively. You curled each one of your fingers around the unsympathetic switch blade and stood slowly to your feet the best you could. Just as you were up, the man clutched your ankle and pulled with all his might which led to you plummeting to the ground onto the knife you were holding. The knife pierced into your forearm and filleted it open like the salmon you had just the night before for dinner. You let out a blood curdling scream in agony but before you could fully comprehend the pain you were in, he was on top of you. His hands gripped your throat with intent to kill, and your mind almost instantly went foggy. You can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe was all you could think. You still had the knife in your possession, but it was underneath where your elbow was and you can’t get to it. Your hands fly to your throat in attempt to get his massive hands away from you so you can once again breathe. Your brimming eyes look back into his and you see a smirk that you will never forget. He’s screaming at you now and calling you unholy names as he slowly squeezes the light out of you. You couldn’t let yourself die at the hands of this bastard, you just couldn’t. So while still looking into his eyes, you used your good hand to stick your middle and ring finger deep into his eye socket. At that, he finally let go of your throat. You instantly start gulping the air down and begin to experience what seems like every one of your cells becoming rejuvenated. You almost roll onto your side only to realize the knife is still underneath you. This time, without hesitation, you crawl over to the strangler who is on his back clutching his face, and you straddle him. You’re on top of him now and you hold the knife above his chest, you’re shaky, and you’ve lost a lot of blood from you’re arm, but you’re strong enough due to adrenaline to lift your arms above your head. You almost hesitate, but when he tries to make another move in a poor attempt to shake you off, you plunge the knife deep into his chest. The bone breaking stab made a crunch that ricochets within your ears and you exhale slowly. You look into his eyes as he strains to breathe and veins in his forehead become prominent and enlarged. You get this feeling that you’ve never felt before, a sense of empowerment. You look at him until he takes his very last breath, with you still on top of him, and then you slump off of him unto the dirty concrete. You sit there, with your legs outstretched and your back up against the wall and you think about what just happened. You just killed a man. You took his life. Ha, you think to yourself, maybe you aren’t worthless after all. Your vision begins to start fading out due to the amount of blood you’ve lost and you realize you’re not out of harm’s way yet. There’s nothing you can do, however, because you can’t find the energy to pick yourself off the ground. You begin to look at the ends of the ally way. First to the left, where there is no one in sight, and then to your right. You have to do a double take because you aren’t sure whether or not your eyes were playing tricks on you. You think you see a man, someone slender, who is standing there with his head cocked to one side and staring directly at you. He’s far away, and you can’t see much, but the above. Other than that, all you can hear is his laughter all the way from where you sit losing consciousness, next to the man you had just murdered. He claps his hands and throws his head back in a cackle unlike you’ve ever heard before, and as your eyes open once again but this time in the hospital, you can still hear it inside of your head.

That brings you back to now, two days later, all stitched up with your concussion dissipating day by day and that damn laughter still haunting your brain. The cops decided to not press murder charges against you due to the nature of the case and they told you that a Good Samaritan called the struggle in and that’s how they found you. That puzzled you, and brought you back to the red headed boy who watched you almost bleed out. As you sit here now, remembering the synopsis of a few hours ago, you almost smile to yourself in the now dark hospital room.


	2. Get Well Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get the chance to talk to someone about that fateful night, but you don't tell him everything.

The night after your attempted rapist’s mother came to your room, you couldn’t sleep. Wow, going over the words “attempted rapist’s mother” sat funny with you. The string of words was both a mix of comical and horrific all at the same time. You lay there all alone looking up at the brownish colored stains that were created by the rain on the ceiling panels. You trace each one with your eyes slowly, doing anything at all possible in order to take your wandering mind off of what had happened. The worst part about this event for you was there was absolutely no one that you could talk to about that night. With your mother being taken due to cancer at the age of only seven years old, and your father being gone for the last year and a half after a heart attack claimed him, there was no one to come to your bedside to hold your hand when you needed someone the most. Of course, you thought that this sounded selfish, but then again, the loneliness was truly eating away at every inch of you. They had offered you a psychologist to talk to if you wanted, but you opted out because you felt that maybe they’d find out something about you that you didn’t want them to know. You close your eyes tightly and try to picture anything else other than the bone crunching noise of you stabbing the man that made you a murderer and that chilling laughter that set you on edge every time you closed your eyes.  The way he clapped when you sat there dying and how he moved so swiftly in the night as his cackle found your ears, left you hollow inside ever since. Finally, after exhaustion won over your thoughts, you finally were able to get the rest that your body, and especially your mind, needed so terribly bad.

The next morning, you made a desperate attempt to talk to another human being in hopes of starting a conversation with one of the nurses. Normally, the care takers would come in, give medications, read your charts, and do whatever else was necessary while keeping their mouths sewn shut. Only when they would ask what your pain scale was from a 1-10 would they unlace their lips for a split moment, only to stitch them back up again once they hastily left your room. You figured it was because of how your injuries came about exactly. They looked at you as if you had the word “MURDERER” plastered to your forehead at all times of the day. There is anger, and then there is the exasperated version of anger that you were feeling. You were completely enraged that these people treated you like you were a crazed maniac when really you simply defended yourself. However, there was one nurse who lingered a bit longer than the others and almost seemed anxious to talk to you. He was a young man, with dusty blonde hair, and a strong jawline. Needless to say, he looked pretty damn good in the scrubs he was wearing and you couldn’t help but stare a little too intensely when he bent over to pick something up. Not only that, but the last two days he’s been attending to you, he’s worn a tight, long sleeve purple shirt underneath his standard nurse uniform that showed off the curve of his muscles just right. Maybe, just maybe, he would talk to you? At this point you were desperate to talk to someone regardless of what they looked like, plus, it didn’t hurt that he would certainly be a fine specimen to have a conversation with. So when he was taking your blood for a mandatory blood panel, you decided to strike up a conversation with him. 

“So, you uh, like your job?” you smile slightly as he rolls up your sleeve. He meets your slight smile with a full one to your utmost relief.

“Yeah I would say that I do. It has its ups and downs, sure, but the best part about the whole thing is how rewarding the job is.” He looks up at you after he finishes his sentence and you get to have a decent look at his eyes. The nurse has auburn iris’s that were in fact quite beautiful, and although you were a sucker for green eyes, you couldn’t help but to get lost in them. You pulled yourself out of your inappropriate point of view and thought of a response.

“Well, that’s very noble of you, Mr.?” You trail off, allowing him to fill in his name.

“Taylor, Scott Taylor, but you can call me Scott.” He nods towards you slightly and he put his hand out for you to shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Scott.” You take his hand in yours and shake it firmly while telling him what your name is as well, although he quite obviously knows it. He has a strong hand shake and lets go after a second or two goes by. He doesn’t hesitate afterwards to go right back to work as he taps the vein he’s going to use, and then puts a blue elastic tourniquet on your bicep. He then took out the small alcohol swab and cleaned the area that he was going to use. Instantly, the smell of the disinfectant gave you flash backs of when you were younger and had to get pesky shots. Back then, the only decent part of getting punctured by needles was the Ring Pop that was given right after the bandage in order to pacify you. Now, each shot’s reward was to secure your health and ensure that you wouldn’t get some sort of disease that could claim your life one day, and no candy was rewarded after that either, just a bill from your visit. Thinking about bills wasn’t exactly the most appealing idea to be pondering about in the moment, so you decided to think about the man that was about to take six large vials of your blood. You weren’t one to get nervous about getting your blood taken, or the sight of blood for that matter, but he made you slightly anxious. You hadn’t been touched by a man in quite a long while, and as pathetic as it sounded, just him running is fingers over your skin gave you goosebumps. He must have noticed you tensing up, and stopped assessing your arm for a moment.

“Hey, don’t be nervous! I promise that this won’t hurt a bit, really.” His smile would have been reassuring if you were actually nervous about him taking your blood, but instead, it did the opposite effect. You nodded towards him and laid your head back onto the light blue pillow. You glanced over as he got the butterfly needle ready and positioned it at your arm. He then pierced the skin and began to fill vial after vial. Thankfully you had excellent veins, and the process went rather quickly and you didn’t even realize he was finished.

“Wow. You were right, it didn’t hurt whatsoever. I think this job is certainly the one for you, if you ever did ask me.” He put the pad of gauze over the entry mark and motioned for you to keep pressure on it as he turned around in his swivel chair to get a piece of medical tape.

“I do try.” He says casually with a small chuckle added on the side. He rolled up his purple sleeves and went over the sink to wash his hands rigorously with soap.

“So what’s with the purple sleeves?” you ask inquisitively with clear admiration in your tone as you access your new bandage.

“Purple is the national color for domestic violence awareness and I always think it’s a good idea to spread the word. I’m in a group that supports different people who have had experience like that actually. And between you and me,” he turns around from the sink, now facing you and leans in slightly with his hand on the side of his mouth which acts like a wall for others not to hear. “it’s also my favorite color, so that’s another reason why.” Another smile appears on his face at the sight of your obvious amusement. After a moment, his smile dissipates and his eyebrows furrow slightly as he adds, “But in all honesty, if you ever want to talk about what happened that night, I would be more than welcome to lend an ear.” You didn’t even know how to react to the comment he just made. Did he really just offer to listen to how you murdered someone just to make you feel better? I guess he truly is someone who you could trust, you hoped anyhow. You let out a small relieved sigh and gave a compassionate smile that alone expressed your gratitude without having to use words.

“Thank you, Scott. You don’t know how much I truly appreciate that.” You squint your eyes slightly while you crease your brow and continue your smile. He nods and adds that he would stop by your room tomorrow as he grabbed the tubes of your blood and walked out of your room. You throw your head back onto the stiff pillow and let out a small, excited screech as soon as you’re sure that he was gone. The enthusiasm that was built up in your chest was almost overwhelming, and you couldn’t be more overjoyed than you were in this moment. An actual connection could be formed here and just the idea of that was promising. Being happy for the first time in while was exhausting, and you decided to pass the time by reading the book that you had started but didn’t have the time to get invested in. There was something calming about a hospital room. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t have to actually do anything, people took care of you, and the blissfully quiet atmosphere? Who knows, maybe it was the lighting. The time ticked by quickly as you read each word on the pages and the only time you stopped was when your doctor came to check on your condition. She updated you on everything that was going on inside of your body and that you would be there for at least another 4-5 days to run some more X-rays and MRI’s. Other than the money factor, you didn’t mind being secluded and tucked away from all your normal daily troubles for a few days longer. Plus, now that you had someone to talk to, this just might be exactly what you need to get back to being you. After the doctor left and ordered some more tests, you decided it was time to get some rest, considering you knew that a nurse would be waking you up any time now to go get poked and prodded by cold hands and tools. You flicked off the light above your head and turned over onto your side, gripping a pillow close to your chest. Tonight you knew you were going to sleep the best you had in a long while, and when sleep finally did envelop you, you couldn’t have been more thankful.

The next morning came early; much too early. The sun was barely waking up and just began to peek out from the clouds as they wheeled your bed to the next testing room. The first event that took place was extensive X-Rays taken of your arm and other places as well. You were fascinated by the science behind them, and although the idea of radiation was rather frightening to you, they were still captivating nevertheless. The best part to you was when you got to see a glimpse of what your bones looked like without them hiding behind your skin. Although you weren’t exactly supposed to see them before the specialist, you could get a glance at them if you peered into the adjacent room through the window where the man looked at them to make sure the picture came out clear. Of course, you almost panicked every time because you never knew if a spot or dark mark was abnormal or not, but the picture of your skeleton was worth the small panic. After the X-Rays were completed, you were able to return to your room and were informed that later that day you had an MRI scheduled for your brain. They had to make sure that there wasn’t any bleeding in your head and that the slight swelling had gone down after your head came in contact with that brick wall. The whole scan was to take approximately three, long, and agonizing hours and you were to be put under anesthesia so you would keep still. You had only been put out once before, so you were rather nervous about going under. However, you didn’t even have time to put all of your focus on that because shortly after you were back in your room, Scott was gently knocking on the already open door wondering if you could come in.

“Good morning! I heard that you are going to be having an MRI done later today so I figured I’d stop by before so we could talk.” He was standing still outside of the door with his purple sleeves bunched up to where his biceps were clearly showing. “May I come in?” He asked rather politely.

“Of course! You can sit here if you’d like.” You pointed to a standard hospital chair that was wooden with orange colored cushion. As he walked over and began to sit down, you continued, “Thanks so much for coming in by the way, it’s a nice distraction to talk to someone.” Which was true and you were no longer thinking about later today.

“That’s no problem at all, really. I’d love to get to know more about you and,” he lowered his voice slightly as he added “about the night that sent you here.” You had smiled at the first part, but the second part made your stomach lurch. You had forgotten about _what_ exactly you were going to talk about. What were you even supposed to say? That you had fought for your life and… _killed_ somebody? That word stalled your brain any time you thought of it. The biggest issue of the whole situation was that you didn’t feel as evil about the murder as you probably should of. Here you were, about to talk to a man you barely knew about the most primal moment of your entire life like it was as simple as talking about the weather. It will be fine, and you tried to assure yourself of it. It’s not like Scott was going to tell anyone anyway, right? So, you decided to go through with it and continue the somewhat uncomfortable situation.

“Oh yeah. Uh, of course.” You tried your best at a smile, but it wasn’t the most convincing. “So, what do you want to know?” He was looking down before, but after you said that he looked up at you square in the face and directly in the eyes.“Well, why don’t you just start off with a summary of what happened and just tell me whatever you’re comfortable with and stop anytime you want.” He nodded towards you to begin and you almost instinctively reached over to your cup of water to take a large sip because you knew your throat was bound to be dry when you tried to speak. After you were finished drinking what seemed like an entire lake, you began to tell him everything that happened to you. The words seemed to be spilling out of your mouth like a broken dam and you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to once you started. You had to pause once or twice to drink more of the rejuvenating liquid, but for the most part you didn’t stop the floodgates from closing. The whole time he listened intensively, and used his hand to prop him up on his knee while never stopping to look at you with always squinted eyes. At certain points you talked faster and at other times you talked like molasses. The whole while your adrenaline was pouring into you much like the night that you were actually fighting for your life, but this time you were simply lying in bed. As your story came to a close, you were perspiring almost like you just ran a marathon and you were sure your bladder was soon to be full from all of the water that you gulped down. He continued to look at you almost unfazed and seemed to scrutinize you as if he was taking mental notes. Just when you thought that he was going to say nothing at all, he finally opened his mouth after taking a very deep breath.

“Well, you’ve gone through quite a bit it seems. I just have one question to ask you though.” He paused, and you eagerly waited for him to continue extremely curios on what it could be. “What one word comes quickest to mind when you think back to that night?” _Empowerment_. Empowerment is the word that ran to your mind as quick as ever, but there was no way that you could say that answer. He must have seen your wheels turning because he cocked his head waiting for a response.

“Terrified.” You settled on that word and although it was something you felt, it wasn’t your _most_ true feeling. He seemed to have bought that answer because he gave you a smile.

“There’s no need to feel terrified anymore.” He glanced down at his pager and got a look of alarm on his face as he did so. “I gotta go. Late to check into one of my meetings. Let’s talk again tomorrow.” Before you could even protest, he was gone almost as quick as he had arrived.

Besides that, they were ready for you in the MRI room. They once again began to wheel your bed through the many swing doors as you went from room to room. You weren’t in a state of dread anymore and you had relaxed almost completely as you got underneath the MRI machine. As they started to set up the machine and the anesthesiologist began to prep you, you started to think about how you left out all of the parts in your story about the crazed clapping boy that you saw at the end of the ally way that night. Why did you leave that part out? Why did you somehow feel that he could never know about the red headed demon? You thought about these questions as you slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep as the sleeping potion began to enter your veins.

You don’t know what time it was or even where you were when you came back into consciousness. After a few heavy lidded blinks, you realized you were back in your normal hospital room. Everything was in the ordinary as you scanned the room slowly with your stiff neck; everything except there was a light but delightful aroma that seemed to be surrounding you. This scent enveloped you, and it prompted you to look to your nightstand. On top of it, there was a stunning bouquet of a dozen red roses with a white note tied to the neck of the vase. You were instantly confused on who they could possibly be from and you reached to grab the note as quickly as you could in your woozy state. The writing inside was simple, hand written, and in neat black ink.

The words read: _Get well soon, doll - J_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. I'll hopefully be quicker in the future. Also, don't worry, Jerome will be entering the plot very soon so buckle up; you ain't seen nothing yet!  
> Thank you to those who commented, you all seriously made my day!


	3. Purple Sleeves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You just can't wait to see Scott again, can tomorrow come already?

Confusion washed over you in a heavy wave after reading those four words. It was almost like rigor mortis had set into your muscles as you lay there stiff as a board unwilling to look back down at the note in your hand. Your face was scrunched up into a jumbled mess as you thought about who this mysterious “J” could be. You went through every single person that you could think of that has a J name that you knew; _every single_ person. Well, there was Jeremy from when you had that part time summer job at the tackle shop that never got any business. That wouldn’t make any sense though, you haven’t seen him in years and he moved far away. How about Jessica? She was a sweet and quiet girl that you had been friends with during high school, maybe she heard about how you were in the hospital and sent flowers? Your thoughts instantly recoiled at the idea because you remembered that she had passed away in a brutal car accident last summer and you had forgotten to send some flowers over to her grieving family. Now, not only did you feel guilty, but you still couldn’t think of whom it could possibly be who brought you the gorgeous bouquet. Not only that, but who on Earth calls you doll? Sure, it was a charming name that you wouldn’t mind being called, but you would have recollected if you were given that nickname. You were back at grasping for straws now and you decided to look back at the note for more clues despite the strange pit in your stomach. The writing was clean and there was a slight slant to the way it was written. Nothing that you didn’t already see before, by now the note was banal; you knew every detail on the thin piece of paper. You quickly flipped it over and forward again just as a novelty to yourself. What you weren’t expecting, was what seemed like a black smudge on the back of the note that you couldn’t quite see because you turned it over so fast. Your heart thudded in your chest as you ever so slowly turned the note back over. There, in the same black ink that was used to write the note, was a small smiley face that stared back at you. The smile was out of proportion and wide in comparison to the small beady eyes that bored holes in your soul. Your heart stopped for a moment as you looked back at the paper, you didn’t know why, but that smile was unsettling to you and put your thoughts awry. You decided to put your thoughts to rest and tried not to give the subject any more of your energy, trying to compromise with yourself that it was simply a nice gift without any strings attached. Still groggy, you slowly put the paper back up near the vase and turned around to lie on your side in order not to look at the crimson flowers. The smell you couldn’t evade, however, and it still seemed to lie beside you has you drifted back into a hazy sleep.

When you awoke, small, white, and blotchy stars flooded your vision upon opening your eyes. You blinked hard once, then twice to try and rid the bright obstructions from your view. Once you could see clearly, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and figured it must be some time in the night and you slept through the rest of the day. Another element you noticed was you had an extra blanket that was placed over your midsection to keep you warm and comfortable. You smiled slightly at that, as you remembered when your mother used to do the same sort of thing in order to keep you toasty during the night because heaven forbid you get cold while you were sleeping. While stretching and yawning rather loudly, you decided to prop yourself up in your bed using your elbows to do so. You groaned aloud as the pain crept into your body and your ears began to ring due to the new position you were in. You looked down to your still injured forearm that now has some heavily laced stiches towards the bottom that are busted and consequently bleeding. Perfect, this is just your luck. You instinctively grab a napkin that was given to you when you had your lunch and applied pressure to the issue. Sighing, you grab the remote to call in a nurse and press the button down hard. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth, you patiently wait for someone to assist you with the bleeding that very stubbornly decides that it doesn’t want to stop anytime soon. You inspect the wound and realize that a piece of string from the bed is entangled in one of the stiches and if you move whatsoever the string begins to do more damage to unlace the stiches. Although you share a close connection with your bed, you were now _actually_ connected to your bed. Without even thinking about it, you roll your eyes and almost giggle at the thought of a string being your downfall. Just then, an older female nurse enters your room and can clearly see the problem before you even have to voice it. Due to the quiet footsteps of the lady, you don’t notice her until she is yelling at you to stop messing with the string as you chomp down on it in order to sever the connection between your arm and the bed. She tisks you as she hobbles over to your bed to grab your arm and inspect it herself as she adjusts her small and circular glasses. The nurse that was scrutinizing over you now you haven’t seen before, but you can tell she must be kind by the rosy cheeks and the warm smile she wears.

“Looks like you got yourself tangled up here! Not to worry, I’m excellent at sewing so needless to say I know my way around a piece of string.” She stands up straighter at that and slightly chuckles at herself and you can’t help but smile as well. “Let me just untangle this and then we’ll get you stitched up good as new!” She continues to unthread the light blue sting from the material that is keeping your arm together. She does so with crafty fingers, easily untangling everything that needs to be without disturbing the bits that need to be kept together. Quite nimbly, she undoes a few stiches that were beginning to come out with a snip of a minuscule pair of scissors that you’re not too sure where she pulled out of. By the time you were even fully done comprehending the process that was being played out, your arm was numbed, stitched back up, and some more pain medication was being put into your IV. You truly were good as new, just as she promised. You catch her name badge and can clearly see the name, Linda, written in pink lettering.

“Thank you Linda, I really do appreciate the help. Not to mention a smiling face was not too bad to see either.” You smirk with a half-smile and she goes over to your bedside after cleaning up the ball of string and stitches that she had made.

“Oh hun, the pleasure is all mine. So sorry about the way some of the other nurses act around here, they’ve got their heads so far up their behinds at times that they don’t seem to realize that the patients actually have hearts. You seem like a sweet young girl, if you need anything at all you ask for Linda and I’ll do whatever I can to make you comfortable.”  The kindness in her tone filled your heart with a thick sap because her words were smothered in sweetness.  

“Will do! I hope you have a good rest of your night and that you don’t have to untangle too many more patients before your shift is over.” You offer back a smile that isn’t as quite as heartwarming as hers but as best as you can muster up. She nods back at you as she heads towards the doorway. Just as she’s about to leave, you remember a question that was flooding back to you.

“Oh! One more thing, I was wondering who it was that left these roses for me?” You look at her desperately hoping she has an answer.

“You know, I’m not too sure of the boy’s name, but I’d say by the sound of him he’s about your age and voice seemed real sweet and innocent too if that could help in any way.” You furrow your brow in frustration, but offer a thank you as she turns and leaves the room. If you were puzzled before, then you were completely bamboozled now. She did offer you one clue though. It was a _he_ who left you the vase of perplexing flowers. No one came to mind however hard you tried, and the frustration was beating you up. Not to mention the slow warmth that was spreading through you as the pain medication was kicking in. Finally, relaxation consumed you and you were able to stop obsessing over who could have possibly given the most confusing gift of your life.

With the new glow of the meds settling in nicely, your mind started to wander about your appearance and getting ready for the morning. There was no way you looked even half-way decent, and you could catch a glimpse of yourself in the metal tin that held your ice. You were in desperate need of a good hair brushing and overall tune up job to improve your current look. Luckily, you did have a little care package that you were able to ask a nurse to buy from the gift shop, but you hadn’t opened it and it was still on the nightstand adjacent to you. Your motivation was rather low, but once you remembered that Scott might be coming back for a visit, you would have shot up in your bed if you weren’t in jeopardy of unstitching your arm again. The little pouch was now in your hands and you pulled out the flimsy brush to begin to untangle the monster that was your hair. Dark blonde curls were all in ball on the back of your head and detangling the mess took a _very_ long time, not to mention that you broke a nail in the process that you had to file after you were done. It wasn’t perfect, but you were satisfied with the result considering the brush circumstances. With the minuscule compact mirror, you were able to look at yourself on the reflective surface while you put on a bit of colored lip balm and checked your teeth. By the time you were finished, you were rather pleased with the outcome and the sun was just now fully out of hiding. After that, you put everything away and do different activities in order to occupy your mind and time. You ordered breakfast, not so fluffy eggs with some soggy toast and a couple of pieces charred sausage, read more of your book, watched the news for a while so you knew what was going on in the world around you, and fiddled with your blankets for who knows how long. It seemed like an entire eternity had passed waiting for the nurse that made your heart flutter to come by, but when those few settle knocks kissed your door, the butterfly’s that were residing in your stomach suddenly came out of their cocoons. Every time you saw him, you were truly amazed at how good looking he was. There he was with his purple sleeves coming to visit you, sporting a charming smile.

“Hey! It looks like you’re feeling better! You got some color back in your cheeks.” His gaze was upon yours and if you had color in your cheeks before, you were certainly glowing now.

“I am. Had to get my stitches fixed up a bit, but other than that I’m just peachy.” You offer a smile and it’s instantly returned.

“So I was wondering if you would want to talk some more about you injuries and what not.” Without your answer, he pulls up a chair closer to you than the last time he did so. You didn’t exactly want to have to talk about this all over again, but his dimples convinced you.

“Um, yeah sure. What exactly you want to talk about?” Almost immediately, you started chewing your lip until the taste of copper invaded your mouth.

“Why don’t you talk about why you were walking around that area at night, especially for a young girl like yourself.” Again, the charm seemed to melt off of him like hot wax.

“Well, it’s the easiest and quickest way to get home, plus my dad has taught me since I was real young on how to keep myself safe. He was, uh,” you struggle a bit for the right word. “incarcerated for seven years for armed robbery and taught me how to avoid the sort of people that he at one time was associated with. I can hold my own.” You laugh anxiously at the last bit, wondering if it was too much considering not only could you hold your own, but _kill_ if necessary.  His reaction was soft though, and you eased up a bit as his body language was still relaxed.

“Ah, I see. How was your relationship with your father?” That was a question you weren’t expecting, and took you by surprise a bit. You thought about your answer for a good while, trying to figure it out as you went.

“At first, it wasn’t all that easy considering he was gone the first seven years of my life, but we ended up becoming really close. He passed away not too long ago.” The smile that your lips create is one that is full of pain and he notices, and puts a hand on yours.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, I know how hard that can be.” On a dime however, he switches from being sympathetic to the way he was moments earlier and asks another question. “So after you realized you had murdered that man, how did you feel?” At that, you were completely taken aback and you must have shown the shock on your face. Did he really just ask that as blatantly as he just did? The question made you uncomfortable, and this time you said something.

“I uh, don’t really know how to answer that and, don’t know if I want to?” His face shows remorse, like he knew he overstepped a boundary. He stands up rather abruptly, and moves even closer to your bed.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s just I get nervous around you and am never sure what to ask.” At that, your heart spiked and you blinked a few times quickly in disbelief. You didn’t have any time to respond however, because his lips were on yours in an unexpected feverish kiss. A small squeak escaped your throat due to the sudden surprise, and you could feel the heat emitting off of his body in thick waves that you couldn’t help but get lost in. Just as you were thinking you could stay like this forever, he pulled away and smirked at you as he wiped some spit from his mouth.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so to maybe finish our conversation?” All you could do was nod as you smiled once again at you and walked out of the room.

There is no way that just happened. Not only did he kiss you, but he kissed you well enough to make it still feel like his lips were dancing on yours. You had been wanting this, and now that it’s happened, you couldn’t help but want to scream in happiness. All you wanted was to kiss him again, and that’s when it donned on you that he was going to be coming back. Oh my God, he was coming back in an _hour_. Panic was now in every ounce of you as you weren’t sure what exactly to do in the meantime. You stared at the clock and began to time it, and you popped in a mint that you got with breakfast for good measure. The hands on the clock kept spinning, and only the flavor of the mint was left in your mouth when you started getting anxious. After the hour passed, you were on your toes, eyes glued on the door, and waiting for the moment he would walk in, but no one did. After hour two came around, you figured he must have gotten caught up with work and he would be there soon. At hour three, you figured that he must have forgotten and maybe would stop by before the end of his shift. As soon as hour four came around and when his shift was about to end, you purely felt embarrassed that you had the hope that he would come back at all. Why did you get your hopes up? You turned over on your side and listened to all of your thoughts over and over again in your head. Who knows how long after you had been sulking that you heard the faucet running in your room. It startled you greatly and you didn’t even know that someone was in your room let alone washing their hands right beside you. To your delightful surprise, you were greeted by purple sleeves and the back of Scott’s uniform and your heart jumped in glee. He came! He actually came.

“I was hoping that you’d show up.” You say quite enthusiastically as soon as you realize he’s there. He doesn’t say anything back, and he continues to wash his hands methodically. This causes you to look a bit harder and actually turn all the way over to face him. You notice something strange, his build seems to be much smaller and while although tone, not built in the same way as normal. As you inspect further, you notice the sleeves seem to sag slightly and his clothes seem an entire size too big for him and…That’s when you see it. Underneath the nurses cap that he’s wearing, blazing red hair peeks out from the bottom. You gasp audibly as you realize that Scott isn’t underneath the uniform, and that’s when he spins around quickly and wildly. He has a surgeon mask on over his mouth, but you could easily see the emerald eyes right above it. He pulls down the mask in one swift motion and from behind it emerges the smile that you haven’t been able to get out of your mind since that day.

“Hello, _doll_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took forever to post. My computer was completely down and as soon as I got it back up I'm posting right away. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I love you guys already and your comments make my day, seriously. Let me know what you all think, comments and Kudos are always appreciated.


	4. Naive Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a visitor in your hospital room that has some news to share with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start of by apologizing for taking an ETERNITY to update this. In no way have I abandoned it, but rather life has just gotten in the way of writing and now that I have some time off I can write! Whoo hoo!

Your first instinct was to scream; a blood curdling scream that would echo through the entire hospital, but that scream was nowhere to be found. It was bottled up inside of you and the cork seemed to be stuck inside your mouth. The utter fear on your face must have been evident because that’s when the laughter started. For some reason, your eyes were fixed on him, not moving. The way he seemed to convulse while he bellowed enticed you to continue to stare despite your best instincts to look away. As the laughter faded, you had your second instinct. Your hand slowly, ever so slowly, reached over to the clicker that would call the nurse in. Inches turned to centimeters and just as your fingers began to brush over the cool feeling of the plastic clicker, he pulls something out from behind his back.

            “Oh, I wouldn’t if I were you.” He almost whispers at you, shaking his head and points a small hand gun plain in your direction. Your breath hitches and you stop in your tracks only to pull a 180 degree turn and put your hands up instead of trying to get someone to help. He looked at you with his head cocked to the side as he gazed at you in complete fascination. Without really thinking, you say something to your now captor.

            “What the hell do you want with me anyway? Huh?” you spat, and he cracked a smile. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that with _as_ much animosity as you had done so, but the “damsel in distress” getup never did look good on you anyway.

            “I see why you’re mad at me!” He snaps his fingers and points to you as if he just came into some kind of fruition. “You’re more of a daisy girl. I see. I just figured you liked roses considering you seem to enjoy the color red,” he draws out the word real slow, “so much.” Fear sinks like a stone deep into the abyss you call your stomach. You know exactly what he means, but you decide to question it anyway.

            “I have no idea what you’re talking ab—”

            “Let’s not play coy, doll. You’re much too smart for that sort of act. Well, then again” He looks down at his lavender sleeves that droop enough to partially cover his slightly freckled hands. That’s when the fact that he’s wearing Scott’s uniform dawns on you all over again. The blood running through your veins seems to stop cold in its tracks at the sudden realization.

            “What did you do to him?” your lip quivering, “What did you do to Scott?” Your breath picks up in the dread that something happened to the boy that just kissed you hours ago. The volume of your voice has risen significantly higher from when you were talking earlier, and you had to remind yourself that there was indeed a man pointing a gun directly at your head.

            “Really?” He sighs, enthusiastically and rolls his eyes and head at the same time. “You’re _that_ concerned about a boy you just met? Trust me; he’s not that amazing anyway. I talked a bit with him,” he furrows his eyebrows looking almost as if he’s a parent chastising his child, “and I have to admit, I’m a tad disappointed in your choice.” He continues this disapproving look as you throw your scowl right back at him, almost confused.

            “I don’t know what that means. Scott’s the one decent person around here and he’s taken the time to get to know me and—” He bursts out laughing in a fit that almost makes you think he’s going to accidentally fire the gun. Now you’re completely confused. What does he know that you don’t?

            “How naïve, did you honestly think that he cared about you? Or, better yet, _felt_ something for you?” He cackles with his head to the sky and ends it with a huff as his face goes back to being gravely serious. “Oh, now that _is_ rich. All he wanted from you was a juicy story that he could tell, possibly raking in a few bucks, and if he ended up getting laid in the process he certainly wouldn’t complain.” You blink slowly at him in disbelief at what he just said to you. If you were confused before, you were completely baffled now.

            “What do you mean; I still don’t understand what you’re telling me.” You slowly shook your head back in forth and you looked completely perplexed. He drags his hand down his face, drooping down the skin around his eyes until he looks like a basset hound puppy dog in frustration.

            “Come on, how clear do I have to be? He was using you for the story you told him and then he was going to write an article on you to put in the newspaper because that what low-life journalists do. And if that doesn’t sink your little love boat then knowing that he was going to paint you like a psychopathic manic in the article certainly should.” You absolutely could not believe your ears and decipher what you were hearing to be true. You must be drugged with some pain medication right now that the nurse gave you and you just didn’t remember. That has to be it, this is simply an illusion that you were creating to torture yourself with more guilt.

            “And why on Earth should I believe a _crazy_ person like you?” You stare into his eyes, never once breaking your gaze.

            “Because this crazy person came with proof.” At that, he threw down a sloppily stuck together manila folder with paper jutting out from all directions onto your hospital bed. You looked at the folder but didn’t know what to do with it. Annoyed, the red head gestured with the gun for you to pick it up and look inside. Between a mixture of your own curiosity and the fear that he might do something if you didn’t open it, tempted you to look inside. You slowly opened the folder and the papers almost began spilling out as soon as you did so. You stopped the avalanche with one hand and your eyes began to read over the words, starting with the heading and going down the paper.

              ** _The Pretty Psychopathic Killer: You Really Can’t Trust Anyone in Gotham._**

            _A young girl brutally murders a defenseless man in an alley and is expected to get no prison time at all._

            You feel sick to your stomach and you can feel your meal creeping up your esophagus with each word that your eyes skim over. As you finally work your way down the page, your eyes fix on the words: ‘Written by Scott Taylor’. At that, you slam the folder back together and toss it to the foot of the bed which emits a quiet thump. Your eyes felt hot with tears due to your anger; not so much about Scott betraying you, but rather because of how dim you felt for trusting a stranger.

            “Was this ever published?” You ask with a brooding tone and you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Lucky for you, Purple Sleeves got interrupted before he could.” He looks down at his nails as if he was completely uninterested in your dilemma. You can’t help but feel a feeling of relief shower over you at the realization that not every newsstand in Gotham was going to have your story on the front cover. Your lips almost form a ‘thank you’ when you remember that this smiling, gun wielding boy in front of you possibly killed the writer.

            “Did you kill him?” you ask almost as bluntly as you could get. The bubbling in your stomach reaches your heart as you wait for the answer. He waits a long time fiddling with the gun as he thinks over his answer, even though it was a simple yes or no question.

            “No,” He waits again thinking about what to say next. “I decided not to. I almost did though,” he looks up at you now, square in the face. “but he won’t be bothering you again because let’s just say he’s left Gotham and won’t come back unless he wants his other wrist broken.” He laughs at this, almost as if he’s telling a joke and imitates having a broken wrist by making his hand flap back and forth like a rag doll. You couldn’t help but slightly smile at the act, and he caught your lips turning upwards. His smile dissipates and lowers his brows as he steps closer to you. “Don’t think for a second that I didn’t kill him out of the kindness of my heart, doll. The only reason I didn’t take his pathetic life was because I wanted my first time to be with someone that I’ve wanted dead for a very long time.” Fear rushes into you again at the way he growls out the words, and you wonder who the person is, but of course you don’t ask. “To be quite Frank with you, that night in the alley has stayed with me as much as I’m sure it’s stayed with you.” Slowly, he creeps closer and closer to you with each word that leaves his mouth. “The way you took that man’s life so,” He pauses, thinking of the right word. “Passionately, that it changed something within me that hasn’t gone away since.” As he says this, he grips onto his chest as his he’s getting choked up. “I’ve always known that there was something different about me, but man after watching that.” He claps loudly in the room and it bounces around the four walls surrounding you coming back to ring in your ears. “Whatta rush!” He’s close to you now, at your bedside. “I just want to thank you for that. Think of it this way,” He crouches down, just inches away from your face. “You saved my life, and so I made that call and I saved yours.” The images of the paramedics telling you that a “Good Samaritan” called your attack in flooded back to you now. “I would of considered us even, but now that I helped you out with that little pesky boy problem of yours,” You could feel his warm breath on your neck and you couldn’t help but get goosebumps all over your body from the sudden warmth. “You still owe me a favor.” The voice came out in a whisper, directly into your ear that tickled as he spoke.

            “What exactly do you want from me?” Your eyes fluttered as you blinked and your breathing was erratic as you wondered what he was going to do next.

            “Well,” He stood up extremely quickly, walking away towards back where he was; which was the opposite of what you thought he was going to do. “I’m not too sure yet, but I’ll let you know when something comes to mind.” He twirls his gun as he sticks it back into his medical coat pocket in one quick motion. As he begins to walk toward the door to leave, you panic and call out to him.

            “Where are you going? And,” You stutter all the words that tumble out of your mouth. “How are you going to contact me when you think of that favor?” In a swift motion he spins around to face you once again and his pearly whites peek out as his smiles again.

            “Trust me, I’ll find you.” At that, he walks out and turns the corner out of your room. Just as you think he’s gone, he peeks back around the corner to remind you of one last thing. “Remember, I didn’t save your life for you to go blabbing to the cops about all this. So please, be a good girl and keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut.” He pretends to zip his mouth out and throw away the key as he walks away, this time for good.

            A mixture of an abundance of feelings makes their home inside of you as you sit there in your bed. Between fear, bewilderment, and a strange sense of excitement rushes through you in a toxic combination that makes your heart seem like it’s going to jump out of your chest. So much has happened in the last ten minutes that your head hasn’t stopped spinning and yet, out of everything that you could possibly be thinking of, one thought stands out above the rest; when were you going to see this red-headed boy again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you who have commented and left Kudos even when I haven't updated in so long. I appreciate it immensely and feed back is always appreciated. Let me know what you think of Jerome's characterization!!! Thank you guys again, you mean the world to me!<3


	5. A Free Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're finally out of the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, remember me?

The next two days come and go more like a dream or distant memory than anything else. Tests, rest—which was drug induced sleeping—, and more tests occupied the majority of your time, and for that, you were thankful. Because for every second that you had to be doing something that the doctors ordered you to do, it was a second that you didn’t have to think about _him_. It didn’t help that you heard the nurses from time to time mentioning Scott. According to them, he left Gotham to pursue a new job offer. Of course though, you knew the truth.

When you did have some free time, you filled your mind with the book that you had been reading that wasn’t all too enveloping, but you tried nonetheless to immerse yourself in the cheesy, action- romance novel. You often found yourself scoffing at the main character— a young woman who falls much too fast for someone who is much too catastrophic in all aspects of the word —and you couldn’t imagine how, in a “real life” situation, you would ever fall in love with someone that could be so reckless. Well, to be fair, love was basically a foreign concept to you. Sure, you loved your parents and the few friends that you used to have when you were in grade school, but you have never been _in_ love. There have been crushes and attractions and even a few boyfriends, but nothing ever escalated to love. All the boyfriends of your past never lasted more than a few months at most. The common denominator to all of the break ups was that they always left because they felt you were never “emotionally available” enough for them; that you could never be vulnerable. Maybe it was because you didn’t put out or possibly it was because they were right. Vulnerability has always been a problem for you and it seems that it’s impossible to put your guard down. The walls you’ve built around yourself are so high that no one could peer over the top; the isolation numbingly silent. The thickness of the fortress couldn’t be penetrated by even the most genuine smile or kindest touch on the shoulder. It’s taken years to build; the hurt of others providing all the materials needed. To your defense, all of your boyfriends were boring, to you anyway. When you complained to your coworkers absentmindedly while making small talk they all became perplexed as to why you’d complained. It seemed you always had the “perfect” boyfriend and everyone could see that but you. This led to a boyfriend hiatus as you questioned everything about yourself. That dry spell continues now as you’re examining yourself more than ever in the hospital.

 

 

When a bird is finally released from the rehabilitation sanctuary, the winged creature continues its life as if it never stopped.  For you, when the day finally came to be dispatched from the hospital, it couldn’t be more opposite. Linda, the sympathetic nurse that informed you who brought the flowers, wheels you out to the front of the hospital. The light is utterly blinding and you instinctively fling your hand up to shield your eyes. It sure has been awhile since you’ve been out. The yellow bumps that cover the ramp rattles your head that you didn’t realize hurt until you were blinded and jolted. After being shaken a bit, the thought of how you were going to get home suddenly dawns on you causing a slight panic. Linda must have seen the alarm in your eyes because she lets you know that she already paid for a taxi to take you back home to your apartment. Protests stumble out of your mouth like loose candies, but Linda simply won’t have it. 

“You’ve had enough troubles in your life; let someone help you out for once.” Her words leave you with a warmness that you seem to never get anymore. Hopping into the taxi, you give her a small wave goodbye as the driver pulls away from the hospital. The few belonging you have sit in a plastic bag in your lap. Before leaving, you bought yourself a baggy shirt and sweats from the gift shop so that you would have something to wear when you left. The sorry excuse for clothes that you had been wearing the night the ambulance brought you in was covered in a mixture of both your blood and your attackers. They were promptly discarded after they were released from evidence. For a split second, you turn around to look at what’s been your home for what seems like months getting smaller and smaller as the distance between you and the building fades. You swiftly look forward again and decide its best not to look back; to never look back.

 

The apartment you return home to feels foreign. Like an alien on a new planet, everything feels… _different_. Placing your keys on the small end table by the front door, you shut the door behind you and promptly lock it. There are still some dishes in the sink from breakfast the morning of the attack. How meaningless the worry of doing the dishes seems now. Although absolutely exhausted, there were exactly two things you were looking forward to doing when you got home: taking a hot shower and lying in your own bed and you be damned if you didn’t get that shower.

After stripping away your cheap gift shop garb, you step into the inviting, pulsating shower jets and let the water completely engulf you in its rain of warmth. While the shower at the hospital did the job, it wasn’t relaxing. Now, with each drop of the water, you can feel the stress and ache of your muscles dripping off your body and traveling down the drain. The steam floods your lungs and detoxes all of the haunting thoughts from your brain, leaving you feeling hazy and at ease. The sweet and luxurious aroma of the strawberry body wash replaces the smell of antiseptic and the new soapy substance erases the waxy, generic soap that left your body feeling stiff. Threading your fingers through your hair and pulling gently, you softly lather your scalp with the shampoo and once it’s rinsed out, you put a dollop of conditioner in your palm and coat each strand with it. Somewhere between shaving everywhere that you needed to and washing your hair out, your memories start coming back to you; the comprehension that you owe your “rescuer” a favor is included. You realize that you don’t even know his name. The boy that saved your life and threatened it all in the same few weeks; you don’t know his name. Well, you knew it started with a “J”, or maybe it _was_ Jay? He more than likely knew your name, though.  Who were you kidding— of course he knew your name. Not only did he know your name, but after he called in the attack, he must have watched you. He knew your room number, he knew about what Scott did, and he knew that he would be able to find you once he needed that favor. You weren’t thinking that he was just going to leave after whispering in your ear and mentioning how you owed him. You had guessed _what_ he wanted, but you were wrong. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive neck, goosebumps springing up all over your warm skin: he was so close. You turn the shower off abruptly and stay there for a moment with your head pressed against the small shower wall. It was time you got out and went to bed, anyway.

It’s amazing how an old spring mattress, a squashed pillow, and scratchy sheets with a thread count of no more than four can become an oasis of comfort when you’ve been away from your own bed for a while. As you slip into your cold, crisp sheets you sigh while stretching out your tired muscles deeper into the bed. The soft light of your lamp on the bedside table leaves the room glowing faintly while your lids begin blinking slower and slower. You inhale a few deep breaths and take in the lackluster room that you took for granted before you almost died: oh how you enjoy the simplicity now.  After a while of just looking around, you reach over your other pillow to turn off the lamp. Before you do, however, you notice something glistening on your pillow that catches your eye. Between your thumb and pointer finger you pick up the short red hair and examine it in the light. Bomb after bomb explodes in your stomach as your mind races faster than it can handle at your tired state. This can’t be right, there has to be mistake and you’re just jumping to conclusions, right? There was no way that he had been… _in_ your apartment, in _your_ bed. Lowering your hand holding the hair, you push your nose into the pillow and inhale deeply to see if your suspicions are correct. Almost instantly, the smell of something foreign hits your nose. Is that caramel...popcorn? The sweet yet masculine mix of smells linger in your nostrils. Someone has _definitely_ been sleeping in your bed, and you have a good feeling of who it was. You feel like you’re in the childhood tale Goldilocks and the Three Bears as you cover your face with your hands and let out a cry of frustration. As cliché as it may be, you honestly ask yourself, why me? Why was this happening to you, of all people? It doesn’t take long for tears to start rolling down your cheeks and drench your light gray night gown as you kick—much like a toddler having a tantrum—your legs up and down underneath the sheets. All of the thrashing about leaves you tired, so tired that the mess that is your life isn’t even enough to keep you awake. Even before the tears on your face are dry, sleep claims you as the smell of him still remains in your nose.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost a year later and I finally update!!! To say I'm sorry wouldn't be enough. Life has been a bitch this last year, but I'm not done with this story yet! I hope you like this (long, long) overdue chapter. Love you all more than you know (I literally read your comments when I'm down).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I will update soon:)


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